A Precious Thing Called Life
by Buckhunter The Race Horse
Summary: A blow likely to kill him landed in his left breast. His vision was filled with black spots, the world swaying around him dangerously. He prayed to each and every God whose names he could remember. The caring and the betrayer. Two personas in a single body, one and the same. "I'm sorry...I wasn't good 'nough." Darkness. Silence. Peace. AWE AU. Sparrabeth, hinted Willabeth.


**OptimusPrime2017 presents to you**

**A Pirates of the Caribbean one-shot fanfiction;**

**A Precious Thing Called Life**

Apparently his defenses were flawed. That's what Captain Jack Sparrow found out when Davy Jones' blade pierced his body- twice. One not so fatal, between his right hip and ribcage. The second, a blow likely to kill him, landed in his left breast. Both went straight through his body.

His cries of pain- a sound even he hadn't heard in over a decade- tore through the air. He collapsed to the deck as soon as the blade was ripped from his chest. Jones was gone almost as soon as the blows were dealt to the victim. His breathing was raspy as he felt around for his own sword, though it was shattered down to a knife, again. His vision was filled with black spots, the world swaying around him dangerously.

Jack snatched his sword and weakly dragged himself to the mast of the _Flying Dutchman_, using it to hoist himself to his feet. He felt a horrible pain in his torso, a throaty noise of pain escaping him. He paused to steady himself and wait for his vision to stop swaying. He took a couple of steps forward, but his shaking legs gave out and he fell to his knees with a grunt.

A familiar metallic taste filled his mouth. Blood. He spat it out, watching it mix with the rainwater on the deck. Only three words registered in his mind. _I'm dying. Again._

"No." It came out as a hoarse, gruffy growl. "_Not yet._"

He gathered his strength, climbing to his feet. He took a step to test his legs. Not falling, he glanced up at the battle raging around him. He _had_ to finish what he started. _I can do this. Just another hour, nothing more. That's all I need._

Something caught his eye through the bodies, rain, and chaos. A dark shaped object that resembled a chest, with delicate engravings carved into it. The chest of Davy Jones. He smirked, hope filling his chest. Maybe life wasn't through with him just yet. _It's now or never._

Jack fell to his knees before the chest, snatching the key from where it lay on the wooden planks beside him- he had no idea when or how it'd gotten there- and admiring it with triumph for a moment. He inserted it into its slot, twisting it. He watched as the locks of the chest pulled out. Weak hands opened it, joy surging through him at the sight of the beating heart. He removed it from its metal home, drawing his shattered sword.

He was ready to stab it.

He really was.

His blade was hovering over it, when the words sounded; when the doubt flooded in, breaking down the weakened gates of his mind's barriers.

"Tell me, William Turner, do you fear death?"

"Do _you_?" Jack stood up and promptly whipped around, voice stronger than ever before. Jones looked at him from where he towered over Turner, bewilderment evident in his expression before his eyes spotted the chest. "Heady tonic, holding life and death in the palm of one's hand."

The cursed captain sneered at him angrily. "You've a cruel mind, Jack Sparrow."

"Cruel is a matter of perspective." He retorted.

"Is it?"

Without warning, Jones spun around. His blade pierced the form of Will Turner, who groaned loudly in pain, gasping audibly, as he writhed in an attempt to get away from the sword that pierced his chest. Elizabeth gasped too, out of shock of what had just happened to her husband.

Jack's hand trembled ever so slightly, a deep, open-mouthed frown forming on his face. The tentacled _monster _of a man laughed harshly, having realized the life changing decision he thrust on his foe.

A cry of rage- _Bootstrap Bill Turner_, Jack realized- rang out and a form leapt at Jones, distracting him.

The _Pearl_'s captain looked between the beating heart in his palm and the Turner couple. Elizabeth was trying to convince Will that he was alright. A pang of emotion stabbed at the pirate's own heart. _He's going to die...but so am I. Only one of us is surviving this...this can't really be happening. I'm a pirate...I _have _to choose myself. I _have _to._

"_You'll realize something; that you're a good man."_

_No, Lizzie. Don't do this to me...not now. _Grief pierced his heart as he finally came to a decision. The grief wasn't for Turner, but for himself. _I have to do this, pirate or not. You've always been right about me, Lizzie. I _hate_ it._

Jack closed the gap between him and the couple with a few determined, yet numb, steps. He slid to his knees, placing the heart on the deck and shoving the shattered sword into his friend's hand. He prayed to each and every God whose names he could remember. _Please work. _Then to himself: _This _had better_ be worth it._

"You will not forestall my judgement!" Jones told Bootstrap angrily as he pinned him against the railing of the cursed ship.

The _Pearl_'s captain brought up Will's arm, and thrust it down.

The blade hit its target.

A choking gasp sounded.

Elizabeth and Jack turned to see the _Flying Dutchman_'s captain murmur something to himself as he looked at the sky, before he toppled over the railing and into the maelstrom.

Davy Jones was dead. _Dead_.

*X*

Jack smirked at Will Turner from aboard the _Pearl_. The younger man returned a smile from the _Dutchman_'s helm, a hint of sadness in his gaze.

Behind the two ships, the _Endeavor_ sank to the depths of the, now smoothed, water. Ahead of them, a whole armanda turned tail to retreat the way they'd came. It'd been a rough victory. Even if Jones hadn't stabbed the _Pearl_'s captain, he'd still say it was a testing last hour.

But that's because it truly was. Davy Jones had been a formidable foe, and an immortal one at that. The cruel man hadn't wanted to give up his life for anything- Jack could've sworn he saw him kill Mercer, whom he was supposedly being _controlled _by.

But the most challenging part of it all had, indeed, been choosing between himself and Turner. He didn't want to die, he wanted to be the selfish pirate he kept telling himself he was and save himself. But the caring side, the side that had freed Beckett's slaves so long ago, had come out. He had known that it'd plague him if he didn't choose to save Will. And, thus, the only other option was for him to give up his own life.

_A precious thing, life is._

"Sir?" Gibbs' voice came. "Jack, are ye alright?"

"Eh?" Jack was snapped from his thoughts, only to find himself leaning heavily on the wheel. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva and blood. His voice had a layer of seriousness to it when he spoke. "Set sail for the _Troubadour _immediately. Signal the _Dutchman _to follow. And send Teague to my cabin when we arrive."

"But, Cap'n-" The first mate objected.

"_Now_, Gibbs!" He snapped at him, pushing himself off of the wheel.

The _Black Pearl_'s captain stalked down to the main deck, forcing himself to keep his posture despite his light-headedness and swaying vision. He could feel the life fading from his body a bit- recognizing the feeling from his last death.

He wasn't going to make it. He only had mere minutes left.

He felt the ship begin moving forward beneath his feet. His nausea grew and he had to use the wall to assist him the last couple of feet to his cabin door. He stumbled in, slamming the door behind him to ensure it closed.

It opened again almost immediately and an irritated growl escaped his lips as he turned back towards it.

_Elizabeth_.

"Ye can come in, but close the door behind ye." He told her with a ragged sigh of pain and exhaustion.

She did as told, but she also seemed to notice his labored breathing and overall vulnerability. "What happened?"

"Doesn't matter." He gasped out, staggering over to his desk. He took off his coat and began removing his effects as quickly as possible, his hands trembling and therefore fumbling. "But I'm 'bout as good as dead."

"You're dying?" The Pirate King's breath caught in her throat audibly.

Jack met her gaze with haunted, mournful eyes. His voice was soft, vulnerable. "'S only a matter of time now, aye. Lost too much blood."

Her eyes welled up with tears. "Jack...I-"

"Don't." It was almost a whisper. He focused on removing his waistcoat. His voice rose to normal volume. "Lizzie, I forgave ye a long time ago for what ye did to me. But one knows when his time's up...best I stay to me fate. If ye're gonna go to hysterics like ye did with Will, it's best ye stay out there...for the both of us." _Because I can't handle it if you do_, he added mentally.

He finally got his waistcoat off and tossed it on top of the pile of effects on his desk. He glanced down to see how much blood his white shirt had collected. He wasn't surprised to see that there was quite a bit. If his wounds didn't hurt so much, he was sure he'd feel the shirt sticking to his skin. He glanced around, finally spotting what he was looking for; a knife. He grabbed it in a shaky hand and cut the front of the shirt open. He put the knife back clumsily and started for a dresser. He reached it, opening the top drawer and began searching for a needle and thread.

"Who did it?" Her voice was choked up as she fought hard to hold back her tears.

"Jones. He got to me b'fore he got to Will." Jack forced out. He located the needle and thread, snatching them from the drawer and closing it. "Go get Gibbs. And keep Will out of 'ere. I don't want to hear the offer of bein' part of the _Dutchman_'s crew."

"You're sure?"

"Aye. Now hurry."

"Don't die on me, Jack." Elizabeth begged.

He met her gaze with a grim, sad smirk. "No promises."

The Pirate King rushed out onto deck, determined to fill the Caribbean Lord's request. The latter was left alone in his cabin, slowly fading away by the moment. He quickly removed his torn shirt and threw it to the floor. His shaking hands fumbled to thread the needle. His breath came in labored gasps as he struggled to breath. Halfway to his chair, his legs buckled and he met the floor with a hiss of pain. His eyelids felt so heavy.

Knowing he had naught but a couple of minutes left, he took a moment to reflect on the past year and a half; saving Elizabeth from drowning; meeting Will; reunioning with his mutinous ex-crew; getting marooned _again_; killing Barbossa; nearly getting hanged; regaining the _Pearl _after ten years; reuniting with Will on his journey to save Elizabeth from the gallows; tricking Will into settling his debt with Jones; coming across Elizabeth in Tortuga on the quest to hire a hundred doomed souls; chasing after the chest; fighting Norrington and Will over it; outrunning the _Dutchman_; dying to the Kraken after the kiss of death; living among hallucinations of himself; getting found by the crew of his ship; returning to the land of the living; gathering in Shipwreck Cove; fighting the _Dutchman _in the midst of Calypso's fury; getting stabbed twice; choosing to save Will over himself.

_Life is dangerous...that's what makes the pirates' life worth living._

"Jackie! What the bloody 'ell, boy?" A worried, familiar voice snapped him from his musings.

It was Captain Teague. Gibbs and Elizabeth were right on his heels as they hurried over to the heap on the floor that was him. Upon reaching him, they rolled him onto his back and straightened him out. He could see a mix of emotions in the Keeper's face as he saw the wounds. Gibbs stared, open-mouthed, in shock of seeing his captain dying before his eyes. Elizabeth's tears had spilled over and were streaming down her cheeks.

"Da'-" A rough, weak cough exploded from his lungs, causing a deep pain within his chest. He took a moment to get control over it, even though blood was streaming out his mouth now. Then he spoke the words any parent would dread to hear. "I'm sorry...I wasn't good 'nough."

A sob escaped Elizabeth and she clasped one of his hands in both of hers. He squeezed back, casting _her _a sympathetic glance. He _was _sorry for her though; she had to watch two people she knew well die before her eyes, each within an hour of the other's death; one to be dead for an eternity, the other damned to ferry those who died to the other side for an eternity.

"Jack…" She was too emotional to speak.

"It's _okay_." He whispered softly. He glanced back to Teague, repeating what he'd said. "I'm sorry."

"I _never _want to hear ye say that again." The older man growled. "Ye 'ear?"

Jack nodded weakly, his breath coming in wheezing gasps. He put a lot of effort into saying something that wouldn't make much of a difference. "Gibbs, I'd tell ye to...stitch me up, but...it's too late for that, eh?" _Wherever the needle and thread went anyway…_

"Jack, focus, lad." Gibbs urged, undoubtedly seeing the dazedness in his captain's eyes.

"I'm too tired." The dying pirate murmured weakly, eyeing the planks of the ceiling of his cabin, his mind taking a moment to reflect on his life. He'd spent so many years running, fighting, unbelonging anywhere. But now...now, for the first time in his life, he felt that he finally _belonged_. Among the darkness or the people surrounding him, he didn't know. The tendrils of black pulled at the edges of vision as the word _home_ produced itself. A small smile curled his lips upwards at the single syllabled term. "It's too late…"

He felt a hand cup his cheek and found himself looking at Elizabeth.

"Don't give up, Jack." She whispered, pleading with him against something not even he had a choice in. She stroked his cheek with her finger. His heart shattered at her next words. "I love you."

"Oh, Lizzie…" His English accent showed through in his vulnerability. He sighed, shaking his head ever so slightly. "As do I. I always have, always will. But...you love Will. You chose him first...I'll make you stick to that too, as you've now married the whelp." He paused, deciding to confess why he did what he had done. "You know, the reason I made him stab the heart over myself...it was for you. I realized that you'd been right about me...Pirate or not, trickster or not...you've always been right. I've always chosen helping others...I freed a ship-full of slaves and got branded as a result." A soft chuckle escaped him and he coughed painfully. "This time, it's not much different...only that the consequences are much more harsh. Lizzie...I-you're better off waiting...on him for ten years over having no one. Take...my word for it."

Jack felt Elizabeth's warm hand squeeze his tighter, not wanting to ever let him go. He gave a light squeeze back.

He met her brown eyes with his own. He could see the raw grief, stubbornness, anger, and other emotions flying through them. His free hand shakily lifted up from the floor of the cabin and moved to caress the soft skin of her cheek. He could see her denial of what was happening to him, see her heart break in her eyes as he sought to comfort her during his own death.

Vaguely, he wondered what she saw in his own eyes. The trickster who confused even his closest mates, or the guilt-filled man who had released the slaves; the pirate or the _man_? He hoped it was the latter of the two, for once in his life.

His arm, feeling as heavy as his eyelids, lowered back down to the planks. He sighed, an odd sound amongst his wheezing breath. Then, he _smiled_.

It was a small smile, but a genuine one- a shape that hadn't formed on his lips since he was but a lad. This single, rare action held so much emotion; sadness, acceptance, despair, hope, _childlike_, distant, attentive, fond, bitter, and was that a hint of...loving?

It wasn't the egotistic, arrogant Captain Jack Sparrow, but the son of the Keeper of the Code, whom smiled from that dying form. It was Jonathan Edward Teague, the Heir to the Code- the child who admired the sailors who stopped in port day by day, the mature young man who tried to split off on his own, the pirate who _did _and became...the definition of freedom.

Jonathan, and John. Then _Jack_, and Jackie.

The dreamer and the rebel.

The boy and the man.

The Heir and the pirate.

The caring and the betrayer.

Teague and Sparrow.

Jonathan and Jack.

Two personas in a single body, one and the same.

"_Who am I?" _He recalled asking Beckett. But this time, the answer was different.

_I'm Jonathan Teague, captain of the _Black Pearl_, Pirate Lord of the Caribbean, Heir to the Code, and…_

_I'm Captain Jack Sparrow._

Darkness.

Silence.

Peace.

So not every place in the afterlife was Hell.

_This _was home.


End file.
